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Chapter Four illustration
by Charlotte Moore
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 "T'kamen,
report to the Weyrleader."
T'kamen had barely taken his seat in the Wing
ready room when F'digan issued the peremptory command. "Excuse
me, Wingleader?"
F'digan glanced up from the hide he was reading,
his expression slightly bored. "I said you're to report
to the Weyrleader, wingrider. Do you need directions?"
T'kamen stiffened, rising half out of his
seat at the insult, until a heavy hand on his shoulder stopped
him. L'stev glowered at him from under thick dark brows,
but spoke softly. "Easy, Kamen. Nothing to be gained by
rising to it. Just go - I'll mind things here."
Fuming silently, T'kamen walked out of the room. F'digan!
A brown rider!
Not all brown riders are bad, Epherineth commented
from their weyr ledge.
That was true, and T'kamen felt briefly contrite for the
sweeping condemnation. F'digan was just the worst of his kind,
one of L'dro's favourites. I swear, Epherineth, if things
don't change soon, I'm putting in for a transfer.
Things will change.
The bronze's certainty steadied T'kamen a
little, and he had regained his normal outward impassivity
by the time he reached the Weyrleader's office.
L'dro wasn't there, but D'feng was, and the
Flightleader wore a blandly expectant expression. "I have
a small assignment for you, wingrider."
T'kamen stared at the older bronze rider.
"I was told to report to the Weyrleader."
"You will receive your orders from me. You're
to go to..."
"You aren't the Weyrleader, D'feng," T'kamen interrupted.
"I was told to report to him, not you." Epherineth, where's
Pierdeth?
Not in the Weyr, Epherineth replied immediately.
D'feng's thin face had lost its bland expression.
"The Weyrleader is otherwise engaged, rider. I act in his
stead."
"If L'dro's out-Weyr then why did my Wingleader
tell me to report to him?" T'kamen asked coldly. He already
knew the answer. This wouldn't be the first time in the
last sevenday or so they had tried to catch him out for
taking orders from the wrong rider.
"You must have misunderstood the message,"
D'feng replied.
T'kamen clenched his teeth to hold back the
angry retort, feeling his blood heat with withheld fury.
"Then next time relay it straight through my dragon rather
than my Wingleader."
D'feng dropped his gaze to the hides on L'dro's
desk, then shoved a slip across to T'kamen. "Go to Blue
Shale Hold and pick up a special order there. Deliver it
to its destination intact, or you'll be paying for breakages
out of your own time and marks."
"You pulled me out of a Wing meeting for a
job any weyrling could do?" T'kamen asked incredulously.
"We have no weyrlings," D'feng reminded him
piously.
"Any off-duty rider, then."
D'feng smiled thinly. "This errand is very
important. It requires the prestige of a bronze dragon."
Fighting to maintain his composure in the
light of D'feng's insulting tone, T'kamen ground out, "My
Wing is drilling today. Why don't you send T'rello or Fr'ton?"
"I'm sending you, rider," D'feng said coldly.
"You have your orders."
Not now, Epherineth cautioned, anticipating the refusal
on T'kamen's tongue. We can go and be back quickly.
How can you…?
He's provoking you. Don't let him.
T'kamen gritted his teeth at his dragon's
attitude, then snatched up the slip of hide and strode from
the office, rigid with fury.
Epherineth was already angling down from their ledge, his
flying straps dangling from one forepaw. He landed a length
away from his rider, turning his great head to regard T'kamen
with a calming gaze, ignoring his accusatory glare. Things
will change.
They should never have got this bad in the first place.
T'kamen took the harness his dragon had pulled off the rack
and slipped it onto the sleek bronze neck, tightening and
adjusting the fit before vaulting to his place.
Only then did he glance at the piece of hide D'feng had given
him. T'kamen's grip tightened on Epherineth's neck until the
bronze shook himself slightly in protest. Faranth's teeth,
L'dro and D'feng are Threadbait!
There's no Thread, Epherineth reminded him.
T'kamen bit back an irate rejoinder to his
dragon's apparent nonchalance, and read aloud, "'Report
to Eastan, Steward of Blue Shale Hold, and journeyman Sarenya
of the Beastcraft to take delivery of the cargo'." Then,
softly, he added, "Journeyman."
Who is she?
T'kamen stuffed the hide into the inner pocket of his flying
jacket. She's who Shimpath should have chosen.
 She
rode like a natural. T'kamen had noticed that the day he and
Epherineth had brought her back to the Weyr, and even now,
astride the great bronze's neck in no more than a flimsy white
candidate robe, Sarenya seemed comfortable and confident and
entirely at home.
He kept his arm around her waist anyway.
Epherineth landed cautiously, half folding
his wings to keep down the dust, and his hind paws sank
deep into the soft sand of the Hatching ground. The bronze
settled to his forearms and dropped his shoulder, unasked.
Sarenya looked back at T'kamen. "This is my
stop."
The remark made the Wingleader smile. The
expression still felt strange to the bronze rider. "Watch
that sand. It's hot."
"I think it's meant to be." Sarenya's strong
fingers squeezed his wrist lightly, then let go. She slipped
down Epherineth's shoulder easily, touching the bronze's
forepaw in thanks, then glanced up at T'kamen with a wince,
shifting her feet. "Well, you did warn me."
T'kamen looked down at the girl, wishing he
could put what he felt into words. "Good luck," he said
finally, lamely.
"Thank you, Kamen."
Sarenya turned and walked across the sands towards the other
girls, bearing the heat without complaint. Epherineth rumbled
softly. We should go.
The bronze let his rider dismount at the top
of the stands before finding himself a vantage point with
the other dragons on the high ledge circling the Hatching
ground, and adding his soft voice to the hum. T'kamen kept
his eyes fixed on Sarenya as he walked down through the
rows of people, lost in thought, until he felt a hand tug
at his jacket.
"Hey, you nearly walked right by us. Come
sit."
The bronze rider focused distractedly on C'los.
"Of course. Sorry."
"What's the matter with you?" the green rider
asked. "It's a Hatching, not a funeral."
"Leave him alone," C'mine interjected, then
asked T'kamen, "Was Saren all right?"
"Yes." T'kamen thought about the girl's poise.
He didn't remember being as calm when he had stood to Impress.
"Confident."
"They've shortened the odds on her again,"
C'los said. "I'm glad I put my mark in early."
"It's no surprise, with Fianine's approval,"
said C'mine
"I mean, just look at some of these girls," C'los
went on. "That skinny one H'ned brought in - she'd break just
to look at her. And that pretty thing of T'gat's couldn't
Impress a fire-lizard, let alone a queen dragon."
T'kamen wasn't really listening, still watching
Sarenya, the apprentice Beastcrafter he and his friends
had found almost five sevendays ago. At nineteen Turns she
had the maturity to handle the responsibility that would
be thrust upon her; the strength of will to cope with a
headstrong queen dragonet, and a background in animal care
that would stand her well in caring for a young dragon.
Sarenya couldn't compete with the true beauties - striking
rather than pretty, her blue eyes dominated regular features,
and her dark hair was confined in its usual practical braid
- but her easy smile, intelligent manner, and confident
poise was worth so much more to T'kamen.
C'los' commentary intruded on his thoughts
again. "L'dro found someone? Blonde, young, jumping at her
own shadow - just his usual type, then."
"Cherganth's looking calm, all things considered,"
C'mine remarked, nodding towards the adult queen.
"She's been through all this before," his
weyrmate shrugged.
"Never a queen egg, though. And never with
Fianine so sick." The blue rider glanced towards where the
Weyrwoman was standing in the bottom tier near her dragon,
proudly refusing R'hren's offers of assistance, but clutching
the barrier for support.
"Oh, here we go," C'los said eagerly as the
humming stopped and the first egg cracked to spill its occupant
onto the hot sands.
Don't let it be a green, T'kamen thought, irrationally.
It wasn't: the gangly little creature was darker, a brown
or a bronze, although he couldn't tell which. As it staggered
into its chosen partner, and the crowd roared with one voice,
T'kamen wondered why he was worried about greens.
You don't want a green to choose her before the queen
has a chance, Epherineth commented, amused.
Maybe that's it.
More eggs were cracking: two blues and a green
had stumbled into the world. T'kamen held his breath, but
the green chose a girl a long way down the line from Sarenya.
"Hey, that's Lenjando who just got a blue,
O'pendro's youngest," C'los exclaimed. "Good lad, Lenjy!"
"Nice bronze," C'mine observed of a closer
dragonet. "Looks like yours, Kamen."
Despite himself, T'kamen tore his eyes away
from Sarenya and the rocking queen egg to look at the squalling
bronze hatchling.
I was never that small, Epherineth commented.
A boy T'kamen didn't recognise was standing
in front of the young bronze, his expression filled with
a mixture of astonishment and joy and adoration. "Zintyrath,"
he breathed, his eyes flooding with tears. "Zintyrath...oh...you're
so beautiful...and...mine?"
You were, T'kamen said, looking away from the Impression,
feeling a lump in his throat at the memory of the moment when
a softly crying bronze dragonet had struggled to meet him,
remembering how he had instantly known that the dragon had
a name, and that name was Epherineth.
"V'stan's going to be weeping into his ale
tonight, his girl got a green," C'los crowed.
"Queen's showing," C'mine observed, and there
was excitement in the normally calm blue rider's voice.
The glowing shell of the golden egg had fractured, and its
occupant was struggling out. T'kamen felt his dragon's instant
love and respect go out to the new queen, even as she wailed
with her need to find a partner. The girls quickly moved closer
to circle the hatchling, obscuring her from view. T'kamen
couldn't see Sarenya any more. What's happening? he
asked Epherineth.
She chooses.
The queen's voice took on a note of incredible
joy as she made her choice, and a great sigh of regret washed
through the rejected girls.
They fell back, away from the queen and her
partner, to reveal the young blonde girl L'dro had brought
in, her face alight with happiness, her arms wrapped protectively
around the golden dragonet's shoulders.
Her name is Shimpath, said Epherineth.
 Sarenya
had just finished wrapping the last fire-lizard egg in a cushioning
layers of furs when all but one of the four adult lizards
in the room chattered excitedly and vanished between.
Only the little bronze kept his vigil on the edge of the basket
of wrapped eggs, rustling his wings slightly. Sarenya smiled
indulgently at him. Tarnish had always taken himself rather
seriously.
The apprentice making a painstaking inventory
of the herb locker looked up from his work but didn't venture
to speak. On the other side of the room, Kaddyston rose
from inspecting one of the herd canines, close to birthing
her litter. "That sounds like your ride, Saren."
Sarenya ran a gentle hand over the protected
clutch, then glanced down at the three packs that would
be accompanying her on her new assignment. Not much to show
for more than five Turns of service. But then how could
she possibly take anything but the memory of the hundreds
of animals she had treated in her tenure here, the runners
and herdbeasts she had helped birth, the sick creatures
she had nursed back to health, and the fire-lizards - especially
the fire-lizards.
Two of those, though, would accompany her
- the bronze Tarnish, and Sleek, his more excitable blue
brother. Sleek had resisted all attempts at schooling, prone
to long periods of truancy, but he always came back eventually.
By comparison, Tarnish had responded well to his training,
and he was a helpful partner and valued companion. Both
had been given to her as eggs, part of Sarenya's own training
in the speciality of Blue Shale Beastcrafters. Fire-lizard
eggs were a major export of the coastal Hold, especially
to the North where wild clutches were seldom found. Most
of the Southern coastline came under the jurisdiction of
one Hold or another, but Blue Shale's careful monitoring
of its beaches and indigenous fire-lizard populations gave
it the most reliable self-replenishing source of eggs for
trade to the North and inland.
Sarenya had spent her fair share of time on
the beaches during her posting here, logging green and gold
clutches and monitoring the hardness of the eggs, then selecting
some from each viable clutch to bring back for trade. Some
Holds simply plundered every egg in every nest they found,
leaving the local population depleted. Blue Shale's more
cautious husbandry kept the wild fairs healthy. Any eggs
thought to hold queens were never traded, and most were
left to mature in the wild. The few queen fire-lizards looking
to humans instinctively returned to their birthplaces to
clutch, but Blue Shale had no desire to destroy its market
by giving a breeding female to someone who might train it
to lay elsewhere. A few chosen Blue Shale Holders with queens
had been trying to train them to do just that, but with
little success. Instinct, it seemed, was a powerful motivator
when it came to fire-lizard breeding habits.
Sarenya would have liked to try training a
queen to lay on demand, but fond as she was of the creatures,
more hands were needed to care for the working beasts of
the Hold. Fire-lizards were pretty pets, and could be trained
as useful messengers, but their practical importance paled
in comparison to the meat and milk herds, the wool-producing
ovines, and the working runners and canines.
The notification of her new posting had come
as a complete surprise. Sarenya had expected to stay at
Blue Shale for another two Turns: the senior of two journeymen,
she was second in experience only to Master Kaddyston himself.
Golirien was a competent crafter, but they would be scrambling
to cover Sarenya's duties until such time as the Hall assigned
another journeyman to Blue Shale. None of the seven apprentices
were ready for promotion.
Handing over this clutch of fourteen lizard
eggs was the last duty Sarenya would perform as a Blue Shale
journeyman. It was only a few days from hatching, and since
a rider was coming to convey her anyway, a short side-trip
to Kellad Hold to deliver the clutch would be an economical
use of his time.
Sarenya picked up the first of her packs, slinging it over
her shoulder. "Tarnish, come," she called to her lizard
as she hefted the second pack. The bronze swooped over obediently
to alight on her shoulder, digging his talons into the well-worn
leather of Sarenya's jacket.
"Fajon, leave that and help bring out this
clutch," Kaddyston told the diligent apprentice. He himself
leaned down to pick up the last of Sarenya's bags as Fajon
carefully lifted the basket of fire-lizard eggs.
Sarenya glanced around the room once more,
but the office bore few memories. Most of her time had been
spent in the stables and the fields. "Better not keep the
rider waiting."
The three crafters filed out of the Beastcraft
office, attached to the stable block, awkward with their
burdens. The three errant fire-lizards returned in a flurry
of wings. Kaddyston's brown and Fajon's green made for their
respective masters, and Sleek dived for Sarenya's shoulder.
Tarnish barked at him, a sharp reprimand for the reckless
flying. The little blue chirped in chagrin and settled on
one of the backpacks instead.
Fajon, in the lead with the basket of fire-lizard
eggs, turned the corner to the main courtyard first. "Shells,
they sent a bronze!"
Sarenya felt her stomach turn an awkward cartwheel
as she rounded the corner and saw the massive bulk of the
bronze dragon filling the yard, and she was distractedly
glad that she wasn't carrying the eggs. She was sure she
would have dropped them, for the dragon was Epherineth.
The flowing muscles, lean and smooth under the distinctive
green-gold sheen of his glossy hide, the quiet dignity of
his bearing, the proud sweep of his wings - all were unmistakable
features of that most familiar bronze.
The journeyman let her burdens slide to the
ground from suddenly weak hands, ignoring Sleek's protests
at being dislodged, as she turned to regard Epherineth's
rider.
T'kamen was standing with Eastan, the little
man who served as steward to the Hold. Sarenya's eyes ran
over the bronze rider rapidly, taking in all the details
even more deeply engraved on her memory than those of the
great bronze. T'kamen had barely changed: his frame was
as spare and his stance as alert and resolute as she remembered.
But there was a greater hostility in his demeanour, more
tension in the new lines that marked his lean face, and
if the fierce intensity of his gaze was the same, it spoke
of contained frustration, an aggression boiling up from
deep inside. The bronze rider had the look of an angry bull,
goaded almost to the point of a charge. The shoulders of
his riding jacket bore epaulettes with the single gold stripe
of a mere wingrider. Sarenya had known about T'kamen's demotion
for Turns, but somehow, seeing him without the three bars
of a Wingleader was shocking.
"Get back and check on that bitch, Fajon,
she's very close now," Kaddyston told the apprentice, who
was still staring admiringly at the huge dragon, the basket
of eggs left forgotten with Sarenya's packs. Then, in a
more covert tone, he asked Sarenya, "Old friend?"
Sarenya nodded. Her Master knew about her
brief stay at Madellon Weyr seven Turns previously, and
his sense for her discomfort was as delicate and accurate
as the skill with animals that made him such a fine Beastcrafter.
But keeping a dragonrider - any dragonrider - waiting was
an unforgivable breach of etiquette. Sarenya steeled herself
as she approached T'kamen. She took a deep breath, let it
out, then spoke in what she hoped was a level tone. "Bronze
rider."
T'kamen froze almost imperceptibly for a fraction
of a second, then slowly turned to her. His face wiped clean,
an expressionless mask of harsh lines, even his eyes suddenly
empty, and when he spoke his voice was dead. "Journeyman."
The silence that followed stretched out uncomfortably.
Sarenya could not speak, nor move, nor take her eyes from
T'kamen's emotionless face. On her shoulder, Tarnish remained
still; even Sleek ceased his normal antics and perched soberly
on one of the packs.
Finally Eastan cleared his throat meaningfully.
Sarenya looked at the little steward in surprise. She had
forgotten he was even there.
"You have the eggs for Kellad Hold, journeyman?"
asked Eastan.
"Yes." Glad for the distraction, Sarenya looked
down at the wrapped clutch, still radiating a faint heat
from the warm hearth. "Fourteen, as arranged."
"Would you like to count them, bronze rider?"
"That won't be necessary, Steward."
T'kamen's flat reply surprised Sarenya, but she was too troubled
to try to decipher his meaning as he signed for the clutch.
Suddenly she just wanted to get between to Madellon
and get away from the expressionless stranger T'kamen had
become. "My packs are ready; I'll just take leave of my Master..."
"What?" T'kamen demanded, a sudden hardness
to his voice. "I was sent here to pick up a fire-lizard
clutch."
His reaction went beyond mere irritation with
the menial task he had been assigned. "I've been posted
to Madellon Weyr, bronze rider," she said, not understanding
his demand.
T'kamen's eyes flared suddenly with renewed
anger. "I was only told about the clutch."
Kaddyston stepped up at that moment. "I think
there's been a miscommunication, bronze rider," he said.
"My journeyman has indeed been posted to Madellon; the message
we received from your Weyrleader indicated that the rider
detailed to deliver the clutch to Kellad would also convey
Sarenya to the Weyr." The Master paused, then added peaceably,
"I'm sure if you speak to your Weyrleader this could be
resolved, or another rider could be sent..."
"No." T'kamen's negative was too abrupt to
be polite. "Take your leave, journeyman." With that, the
bronze rider picked up two of Sarenya's packs and turned
to secure them to his dragon's riding harness.
Kaddyston drew her aside. "I wouldn't normally
interfere, Saren. But this rider obviously knows you, and
wasn't told he would be expected to convey you. And why
has the Weyrleader sent a bronze? What's going on here?"
Sarenya glanced at T'kamen's back. The rider's anger and
embarrassment at being made to look a fool was tangible. "It's
a long story," she explained, a little awkwardly. "But he's
not been sent to honour me."
"Watch your back at the Weyr, Saren," Kaddyston
cautioned her. "You're a fine Beaster, but something tells
me that things are not right there." He pressed a rolled
and sealed hide into her hand. "Your reference for Master
Arrense. I hope he appreciates your skills."
Sarenya clasped Kaddyston's strong, callused
hand firmly. "Thank you, Master."
There were no other farewells to make. The other Beasters
were out in the fields or on the beaches; Sarenya had said
her goodbyes to them last night. Resolutely, she turned to
the bronze dragon, buttoning her jacket closed against the
cold of between. Tarnish took off from her shoulder
and joined Sleek, hovering slightly above Epherineth.
T'kamen had already settled on his dragon's
neck. He looked down at her, his eyes invisible behind the
dark-tinted goggles. "You remember how to mount?"
Before Sarenya had a chance to answer, Epherineth
had cocked his forearm and angled his shoulder. Sarenya
stepped on the bronze's arm and then reached up to take
the hand T'kamen offered. Once she was in place behind him
on Epherineth's neck, the bronze rider secured her with
the fighting strap. Tarnish and Sleek landed on her shoulders.
Despite the tension, Sarenya admired the enormous
strength of the dragon beneath her, feeling the great beast's
muscles bunch as he prepared to take off. She noticed Eastan
and Kaddyston moving well back, to give the bronze dragon
space, and all the curious faces watching at the windows
of the Hold.
Then Epherineth sprang, his wings catching
the air and lifting them easily. Within three strokes they
were high above the Hold. Sarenya turned her face away as
the wind rushing past made her eyes stream, but out of T'kamen's
sight, she was smiling at the exhilarating power of Epherineth's
flight.
She saw T'kamen's signal, and then they were between.
The darkness held no fear for Sarenya, save the memory of
the last time she had ridden dragonback. She could not feel
herself shiver in the icy cold, but she knew she had, and
that the shiver, like the memory, would stay with her long
after she emerged into the light.
Between
had done little to cool T'kamen's fury by the time Epherineth
emerged into brilliant sunlight far above Kellad Hold's fire-heights.
If L'dro and D'feng had set out to provoke him, they had succeeded.
Sending him on an errand - an errand! - delivering fire-lizard
eggs was insult enough. Neglecting to mention that he was
also expected to convey a journeyman back to the Weyr had
humiliated him in front of Hold Steward and Craft Master.
But when that journeyman was Sarenya of the Beastcraft...
T'kamen seethed with impotent rage.
Epherineth had withheld comment, demonstrating an excess
of reticence even by his taciturn standards. As he adjusted
his speed to make a controlled descent to the courtyard of
the Hold, he said simply, Be calm.
The bronze's admonition was quiet but forceful,
and dispersed the intensity of T'kamen's anger. T'kamen
felt a brief surge of irritation at his dragon's effortless
management of his emotions, but he had been grateful for
Epherineth's moderating influence on his temper more than
once in the past. The bronze rider forced himself to breathe
deeply, accept Epherineth's caution, ignore his passenger,
and focus instead upon the Hold.
The great courtyard was as familiar to T'kamen
from the ground as from the air. He had spent the first
seventeen Turns of his life travelling with one of the oldest
established Southern trader trains, so Kellad Hold was the
closest thing T'kamen had ever had to a home before the
Weyr. Each autumn the wagons of his family, and the other
families that made up the train, would return here to weather
the coldest months of the Turn. Each winter Taskamen had
renewed his friendships and rivalries with the boys of the
Hold and of the Harperhall that defined one side of the
courtyard. Here, in the bitter cold of winter fourteen Turns
ago, Taskamen of the traders, Cairmine of Kellad, and Carellos
of the Harperhall had been Searched by a blue dragon of
Madellon Weyr.
T'kamen seldom had reason to visit Kellad,
but the place was little different to how he remembered.
Harper crafters in blue numbered almost the same as holders,
with the brown and green colours of Kellad woven into their
shoulder knots. Smoke rose from the furnaces in the Hold
smithies, and the rasp of file and saw sounded steadily
from the workshops of Kellad's carpenters. The fragrance
of fresh sawdust attested to the Hold's most prosperous
industry: great swathes of hard- and softwoods had been
planted immediately after the end of the last Pass, so as
to maximise timber production while no Thread fell to destroy
the trees. Almost a hundred Turns on, the foresight of those
long-dead foresters was paying rich dividends for the holders
of Kellad.
As Epherineth settled to the flagstones, T'kamen
glanced over at the main doors of the Hold to see who had
been sent to take delivery of the fire-lizard eggs. He narrowed
his eyes as he recognised the brawny man standing among
a cluster of women on the steps of the Hold. What was so
significant about a clutch of fire-lizard eggs to merit
Lord Meturvian's personal attention?
"Dragonrider!" the big man bellowed up at
him.
T'kamen dismounted, pulling down his flying
goggles and wondering bitterly what oversight he'd made
this time. "Lord Holder Meturvian."
Kellad's Lord halted his approach, looking
more closely at the bronze rider, then at Epherineth. "My
apologies. I took you for L'dro."
T'kamen inclined his head curtly in acknowledgement
of the apology. "T'kamen, Epherineth's rider. I have fire-lizard
eggs for you."
Behind Meturvian, the young women - the Lord's
daughters, by their resemblance to him - pressed forwards
eagerly. "L'dro said fourteen," he said suspiciously.
Behind him, T'kamen heard Sarenya slither down Epherineth's
shoulder. "Fourteen Blue Shale fire-lizard eggs, my Lord,"
she said in a clear voice. "They've been well protected against
between, but they need heat - a warm hearth would be
ideal."
T'kamen untied the basket of fire-lizard eggs
from Epherineth's harness and handed it wordlessly to Sarenya.
The journeyman unwrapped the first egg, showing Kellad's
Lord the pale, mottled shell and giving him a chance to
count the clutch.
Satisfied, Meturvian nodded. "Javiann will
show you to the hearth in my office, journeyman."
One of his daughters led Sarenya into the
Hold, but Meturvian folded his arms, staring at T'kamen.
"Tell your Weyrleader that lizard eggs are a pretty gift,
but no compensation for the shame he has brought on my family."
The burly Lord turned a hard glare on one of his remaining
daughters.
The bronze rider noticed the telltale swell
of the girl's belly, and the way she cast her eyes down
at his scrutiny. So, L'dro had been careless enough to get
the daughter of a powerful Lord pregnant. T'kamen would
have laughed, but the significance of the fire-lizard clutch
was now all too plain. The transaction he had assumed to
be between Blue Shale and Kellad involved the Weyrleader
directly. L'dro must have waived a significant portion of
the Weyr's tithe from Blue Shale in exchange for these eggs
to pacify Meturvian. No wonder things were so tight at the
Weyr, with L'dro spending half its resources to gloss over
his own indiscretions. And by Meturvian's avaricious tone,
he wouldn't be satisfied with one clutch of eggs as compensation.
"I'll see that he gets the message," T'kamen
said coldly, as disgusted by the Holder's greed as by L'dro's
corruption. He was doubly keen to get back to the Weyr now,
to discuss these new revelations with C'los, and to leave
this place. He longed for the comfortable quiet of his own
weyr.
Then, too, as Sarenya returned, T'kamen felt
his indignation at L'dro's dishonesty fade into insignificance.
He yanked his darkened goggles up to cover his eyes and
vaulted to Epherineth's neck: ostensibly because he had
no desire to tarry here any longer than necessary, in truth
because even looking at the journeyman Beastcrafter stirred
up memories and regrets best left forgotten. T'kamen waited
while Sarenya bade Meturvian a polite farewell, no longer
caring that he was playing the menial role D'feng had set
for him to the hilt.
When Sarenya turned to mount, T'kamen gripped
her forearm with such strength that she winced as she settled
into place behind him, and massaged her wrist gingerly with
the other hand. The journeyman's two fire-lizards chattered
indignantly, and under her breath, Sarenya muttered, "Kamen!"
The familiar use of his name was as startling to Sarenya
as it was to T'kamen, if the surprise in her eyes was accurate.
T'kamen froze, searching her astonished gaze for calculation,
guiltily glad that his own eyes were hidden. Then, before
he could say anything inadvisable, he turned back, staring
forwards at the back of Epherineth's head. Get us out of
here.
The bronze gathered his weight, easing back
onto his haunches before leaping aloft with all the gigantic
power of his massively muscular hind legs. T'kamen leaned
into the steep climb, blocking everything out of his mind
save for a crystal clear visualisation of Madellon, far
more detailed than Epherineth required.
But as he signalled the imminent jump, T'kamen
felt Sarenya tuck her hands into his belt, and as the perfect
image of Madellon fled his mind, the bronze rider was glad
of the knowledge that Epherineth's unerring instinct would
always guide them safely home.
  
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